


Taking Advantage

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Blackmail, Facials, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “God, there is a reason I always sponsor skaters, and it’s this right here.” He smacks Yuuri’s ass hard, making him jump. “That’s a gorgeous ass."
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32
Collections: anonymous





	Taking Advantage

To say it’s been a rough season is to put it mildly. With the absolute disaster of the GPF and his recent decision to withdraw from all subsequent competitions, Yuuri isn’t surprised that his sponsors want to meet with him. _Just get through this meeting_ , Yuuri tries to reassure himself, _then you can go back and start packing._

The sponsor was in Detroit on business, so Yuuri had taken an Uber to the downtown hotel where he was staying. He wasn’t sure of the exact details the man wanted to discuss, but when someone believes in you enough to spend the kinds of money his sponsors do, Yuuri has an obligation to meet with him.

The lobby of the hotel is quite fancy, with golden chandeliers and plush furniture. His sponsor, Mr. Eaton, looks up from his phone and smiles, waving him over to a little circle of couches in the lobby proper. 

“Yuuri! So good to see you!” Mr. Eaton holds out his hand. He’s not much taller than Yuuri, but much wider, with a heavy potbelly and only a few artfully combed hairs on the balding crown of his head. 

Yuuri takes the offered hand and shakes it. “Hello, Mr. Eaton.”

“Please, call me Charles,” he insists. His patchy beard is streaked with gray, and by Yuuri’s best guess he’s in his mid-fifties.

Rather than get straight into business, Mr. Eaton invites him to dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, keeping up an exhausting line of small talk. Yuuri, who isn’t the most social person on the best day, struggles to keep up, answering bland questions about his training, his soon-to-be-complete degree, and his life here in the US. Yuuri feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop somehow—for Mr. Eaton to demand to know what went so wrong this season, but the topic does not come up.

Mr. Eaton orders dessert—a rich, chocolate cake—but Yuuri declines, his stomach in knots. He’d honestly prefer it if they could get to the point, so he could return home and wallow some more.

“Now, as pleasant as this is, I suppose we have to get down to business,” Mr. Eaton says, pushing away his empty dessert plate. “I have some paperwork I’d like you to look at in my room. Nothing big! Just a few changes for next season.”

This is it. “Of course,” Yuuri agrees, forcing a smile. “I’d be happy to. Thank you again for the meal.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Mr. Eaton has one of the suites on the top floor, and the elevator ride there has Yuuri anxious. He knows his last season was such a disappointment.

The suite is massive, with its own living room and separate bedroom, all decorated in an ultra-modern style. There is indeed a pile of paperwork and a pen on the coffee table, and Yuuri sits before it, wishing he’d worn his glasses instead of leaving them at his bedside (he felt they made him look too immature).

As he’s starting to read, Mr. Eaton sits next to him on the couch, rather than in the adjacent armchair. 

He’s almost done reading the first page when he feels Mr. Eaton’s big hand on his knee. “So, Yuuri, last season was pretty rough, hmm?”

Alarm bells start to ring in the back of Yuuri’s mind. “Um, yes. I’m very sorry, Mr. Eaton, I’ll do my best to not let it happen again.”

Mr. Eaton’s hand shifts higher, up Yuuri’s inner thigh. “As I said, please, call me Charles.”

Yuuri can’t be reading the situation correctly. He feels frozen.

“It was a huge disappointment, for you and my company both. We were expecting your participation at Four Continents and Worlds, and to have you not even make an appearance was a huge let down. I’m going to need you to make it up to me.”

Mr. Eaton’s pudgy hand makes its way between Yuuri’s legs, making his meaning quite clear. He has a wedding band on his left hand.

Guilt, fear, and confusion swirl in Yuuri’s mind. “Make it up to you?”

There’s something predatory in his eyes. “As a businessman, I expect a return on my investment. What I’m saying is, you can make it up to me right here tonight, or you can pay back this last year’s money, since you were clearly unable to keep up your end of the deal.”

There’s no way in hell he has the money to do that, and the thought of asking his already cash-strapped family to bail him out from his failure… it’s too much.

“W-what do you want me to do?” He can’t keep the quaver out of his voice.

“Good, Yuuri, I’m so glad you understand your situation.” He squeezes Yuuri’s clothed, soft cock through his pants. “First things first, I want you to show me what I’ve been paying for. Take all these clothes off and let me see you.”

Yuuri, raised in an onsen, isn’t body shy; but with this his throat nearly closes up in panic. As if in a trance, he shakily gets up and behinds to strip, feeling Mr. Eaton’s hot and hungry gaze on every inch of his skin. He pauses before taking off his boxers, too frightened to move. 

“These too, come on,” he demands.

It’s still early enough in the evening that sunlight is streaming through the upper-story windows. He feels unbelievably exposed as Mr. Eaton circles him like a shark.

“God, there is a reason I always sponsor skaters, and it’s this right here.” He smacks Yuuri’s ass hard, making him jump. “That’s a gorgeous ass.”

Yuuri feels mute.

Mr. Eaton reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up. “Just so you won’t be coming up with any pretty lies later, I’m just going to record you saying a few things. You’ll be a good boy and let me, won’t you?”

“What should I say?” It doesn’t even sound like his voice.

“Charles, please fuck me in the ass, I want your cock so bad.”

“C-Charles-“

“With feeling, now. Beg me for it.”

Yuuri looks into the tiny lense of his phone camera, and begs, voice thick, “Please fuck me in the ass, Charles, I w-want your cock so bad.”

“Perfect.”

With video evidence of Yuuri begging for anal sex, his sponsor has basically a golden ticket to get whatever he wants.

“I have an automatic backup to the cloud, sweetheart, so don’t worry about that video getting lost.”

His face is wet, he’s crying. Yuuri tries to hold in his sobs, but his shoulders shake with the effort.

“Don’t cry now! Come on, I’m not going to hurt you or anything.” He puts his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’m just taking what I’m due.”

Mr. Eaton guides him to the bedroom and undresses himself. His salt-and-pepper body hair is thick, especially on his arms and at the base of his stiff cock.

He pushes Yuuri backward on the bed, spreads his legs with two big hands, and presses a big, wet kiss to Yuuri’s soft cock, making him gasp and try to shift away.

“Keep those legs spread wide,” Mr. Eaton commands. “You’re my little cocksleeve tonight. If you keep crying I’m going to have to gag you.”

He tries to stop crying, he really does, but in the end it must be too distracting. Mr. Eaton pulls a thick, rubber ball gag out of his suitcase and shoves it in Yuuri’s mouth, stretching his jaw wide and muffling his sounds. It’s very uncomfortable, and drool starts to drip down his chin the longer it’s in.

Mr. Eaton wets his hand with lube and begins to jerk Yuuri off, teasing and stroking him until he’s hard despite all his wishes.

“See, I knew you’d like it, little slut. Spread those legs as wide as they go, I need a few more commemorative photos.”

More photos are taken, the flash of the camera blinding his dazed eyes. 

“It’s almost enough to make me hope you crash and burn again, so I can have you more.”

Time seems to run so slow and so fast. Mr. Eaton takes Yuuri’s cock into his mouth, sucking with seeming delight. His body betrays him absurdly quickly, enjoying the blowjob, Mr. Eatons’ blading head between his legs sucking him off like he’s enjoying a particularly tasty dessert. 

When Yuuri comes into the older man’s throat, it unleashes another torrent of confused, frightened tears, wetting his cheeks and eyelashes even as he pulses in Mr. Eatons’ mouth.

“Now it’s your turn to return the favor, cutie. I’m going to fuck your face in.”

His jaw feels heavy with the ball-gag removed, and Yuuri feels broken, even as he’s kneeling on the ground between his sponsor’s legs. It isn’t so much a blowjob as it is Mr. Eaton violently thrusting into Yuuri’s mouth, gripping the back of his skull and fucking him with abandon, like a sex toy instead of a person. It’s all he can do not to vomit, as Mr. Eaton triggers his gag reflex and refuses to let up. His fat, hairy stomach protrudes enough that he can’t see Mr. Eaton’s head.

His sponsor is buried fully in him, so much that his heavy balls are resting against Yuuri’s chin, when Yuuri sees the small camera on a tripod to the side with its recording light on. His humiliation is being preserved in more than one way, it seems.

Mr. Eaton tilts him toward the camera. “You look at home with a cock down your throat, Yuuri,” he pants. “It’s hard to pick between coming on your face or in your mouth. I wish you were wearing your glasses.”

In the end, he decides to come on Yuuri’s face. He keeps Yuuri’s mouth open by grabbing his tongue with a pudgy thumb and strokes himself off with the other, shooting thick, foul semen across Yuuri’s eyes, cheeks, and hairline. Yuuri’s forced to close his eyes as the thick fluid drips down. 

“Good boy, such a good boy,” Mr. Eaton says, sounding winded. Absent-mindedly, he slaps Yuuri’s cheek, hard enough to sting. “Been wanting to do that forever.”

Yuuri’s breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like the beginning of a long-overdue panic attack. He reaches up to wipe his face, but Mr. Eaton stops him firmly.

“Going to need a while before I can properly fuck you in the ass,” He shoves Yuuri, still blinded, towards the bed. “You lay right here, spread so I can see your tight little hole, nice and quiet.”

There are sounds: running water, the rustle of fabric, steps on the carpeted floor. Yuuri tries to calm his breathing and his racing heart through it all. Time must pass, because the thick grime on his face begins to dry in disgusting, crusty streaks.

He hears Mr. Eaton take a business phone call from another room, voice normal and jovial. 

When he finally comes together again, the sun has long set. He startles as a wet cloth is wiped over his eyes, dislodging some of the gunk. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty, you still owe me quite a bit of money.”

It must be almost over, surely. Once he gets his fuck, Yuuri will be free to go, debt paid. He’s been good, keeping his legs spread until the muscles are stiff and sore.

Mr. Eaton slaps his side, and Yuuri winces, curling away. “I’m going to fuck you in front of the TV, I think. Get up and follow me.”

The tripod is set up in the living room now, along with some other recording gear. The coffee table and its paperwork have been moved, leaving a wide space on the tile floor where a number of black items are stuck in a line. Yuuri realizes what they are at about the same time as Mr. Eaton pushes him forward towards them.

It’s a line of black dildos suctioned to the floor. At one end, a petite one sits, barely larger than Yuuri’s middle finger, at the other end a massive black monstrosity as big as his whole forearm. 

“I know you’re in a hurry to get home, and that athletes like a challenge, so after you get to the end of my little relay race you’ll be free to go.”

There’s a helpful squirt bottle of lube.

The massive dildo at the end will absolutely break him open, there’s just no way for something that massive to fit inside him. “I don’t think—“

“That’s your problem, slut, you’re thinking. Turn that brain off and start doing what you’re best at, taking cock.”

He can do this. He can do this. If he does this, it’ll be over, and Yuuri can go home.

The first dildo itself presents a challenge, as Yuuri tries to lower himself down upon it. The whole pose is very vulnerable, and Mr. Eaton’s eyes are on him with great desire.

As the head of the silicone penis makes it past the tight ring of Yuuri’s unstretched muscles, he gasps. Even that intrusion is huge; he’s a virgin. But he just has to keep going so this horrible evening can end.

He bobs up and down on it, undignified and off-balance, as the dildo stretches him out bit by bit. He’s panting and crying again by the time it’s all inside, and to his extreme shame his cock is standing stiff between his legs, even with all the distress.

Mr. Eaton is lounging on the couch, blatantly jerking himself off as he watches. “Tell me how much you like being stuffed full of dick.”

Yuuri sobs. “I like it so much.”

“Then hop on the next one, cocksleeve,” Mr. Eaton demands. “I am a very busy man, and you’re here for my pleasure.”

The next one feels like a fist, even against his already-stretched hole. He covers the toy with lubricant, and it drips and squelches as he tries to fit it in, holding the silicone against his entrance like a battering ram.

Just as he’s got the tip inside himself, legs shaking, he hears the tv start up behind him. Horrifyingly, it’s his own gasps and moans coming through the speakers. He turns his head and sees himself laid back on the hotel bed, legs spread, getting sucked off by Mr. Eaton’s disgusting head, screaming and crying out.

He’s so startled he slips and the second dildo slips in deeper, sharply sending a shoot of pain and pleasure to his spine.

“If you don’t start fucking that toy properly, Katsuki Yuuri, I’m perfectly comfortable extending your debt. I could fly you out to my home office and fuck you in the boardroom. We can make a lot more movies.”

Anything but that. With determination, Yuuri bobs down on the toy in earnest, fucking himself on it until it’s fully inside him like a rigid bar against his prostate.

There’s no rest, as Yuuri moves onto the third dildo and the fourth. He’s gaping open, stretched so cruelly wide every time he leans down. The muscles in his thighs burn for exertion and his face is flushed red and heavy with salty tears. 

Mr. Eaton watches him with bright and happy eyes, jerking himself off and showing him with degrading praise. How he was made for this, how much of an absolute whore he is, how he’s going to keep these recordings and treasure them forever.

The fifth and final dildo won’t go in, no matter how much lube Yuuri uses, and his sobs are harder to control. There’s no way it’ll fit, he’ll break in half from a cock that big.

“This is why you didn’t earn us a gold medal, Yuuri darling, you just can’t go the last mile. It’s a real shame,” Mr. Eaton says. “I guess I’ll just fuck you then, and we can arrange travel for when you’ll come visit and make it up to me. Perhaps you can practice.”

Through a combination of fear and spite, Yuuri manages to get the impossibly thick head inside himself, screaming out in pain. He lets his weight do the work as it pushes in and in and in, rearranging his insides with its unrelenting length and girth. Soon, he has it halfway, then three-quarters, all to the soundtrack on the television of himself moaning on loop. 

When it’s finally all stuffed inside him, he feels mentally broken, disconnected.

“Excellent. Maybe you do have it in you to win.”

Yuuri sobs more in response. 

“Now jerk yourself off,” Mr. Eaton commands. “Show everyone just how much you love it.”

Yuuri strokes himself off with shaky, sticky hands, feeling like a piece of meat impaled by a log. His prostate is crushed by the pressure, and it doesn’t take long before he’s spurting over the floor.

“Good little cocksleeve. I’d like to fuck your ass, but since your hole is absolutely ruined, I’ll have to settle with your mouth again.”

Mr. Eaton’s cock is somehow even more foul the second time, sweaty and bitter. Yuuri submits to another forceful facefuck, this time ending with thick cum down the back of his throat. He swallows helplessly, coughing and still crying. 

Dazed and traumatized, Yuuri bow-leggedly puts on his clothing over his filthy skin and signs a new contract for Mr. Eatons’s company. He can’t even read it. Physically and emotionally at the end of his rope, Yuuri accepts a taxi ride back to the dorm he shares with Phichit, self conscious of the thick smell of sex and the remaining traces of filthy cum in his hair. 

He falls asleep in the shower, shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> One day in the future, Viktor finds out about all this, and d e s t r o y s that man and his company.


End file.
